


if not now, when?

by delta_trevino



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, heaps of innocent fluff because i miss them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-13 17:02:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29529579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delta_trevino/pseuds/delta_trevino
Summary: “Can I?” His eyes, still warm, flicker down to Killua’s lips.Uh—” Killua’s heart must be spilling over. “Sure.”Or, aggressive butterflies and romance are hard to deal with for Killua, especially when concerning his best friend.
Relationships: Gon Freecs/Killua Zoldyck
Comments: 14
Kudos: 129





	if not now, when?

**Author's Note:**

> ahhhhh hxh! i love them to bits 
> 
> scales of intensity: 
> 
> angst: 1.5/10  
> fluff: 8/10  
> lemon: 1/10 (it's a kiss, okay?)
> 
> tw: blood and implied murder and death from Killua's past
> 
> happy reading!!

_Age: 14_

"Don't be such a dumbass," Killua scoffs, plopping next to Gon near the river. Whale Island's grass is overgrown, tickling his ankles and bare legs. 

"Whoops," Gon says sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck. "Didn't see it." 

Gon ran into a low-hanging tree branch while they were gathering red berries for Aunt Mito. He knows the island like the back of his hand and can rattle off all the plants and animals better than most hunters known nen—but when he's focussed, everything else fades into the background. 

Killua sighs with his arms crossed. "Stupid." 

Gon washes his hands in the river; the sun so bright that the water on the horizon is too blinding to look at. 

"It's fine," Gon reassures. "Just a scratch." 

Killua eyes the "scratch" on Gon's cheek. It's a harsh red line that runs from the edge of his cheekbone to under his eye, drawing beads of blood. Killua's never seen some of the trees around here, not even in textbooks. That includes the one Gon ran into, with small thorns and stunted leaves.

"Let me just—" Gon folds over, about to shove his head into the river. 

"Gon!" Killua reaches out and pulls him back by the shoulder. "What are you doing?" 

"I'm going to wash it," Gon says practically. 

"Don't dunk your whole head in." Killua sighs. "Use your hands." 

"I was going to." Gon frowns at his hands, which are still covered in dirt. 

Killua sighs again. He plunges his hands into the cold water, washing them up to his wrists. His fingers tingle and the momentary shock subsides as he works the dirt off, cleaning under his nails efficiently and over his knuckles. Illumi taught him how to clean blood off his hands as fast as possible.

"Here." Killua cups a little water in his palm and carries it over to Gon's cheek. "Hold still." 

Gon flinches when Killua splashes it over the cut, a hand flying onto Killua's knee to steady himself. Blood and water blending into pink drip down Gon's face. Killua brings his other hand over, wiping the water away from Gon's freckles. 

"We'll need to bandage it back at your house." Killua examines the cut, thumbing over it with his fingertips. It's shallow and long, slicing through Gon's sunspots. After it heals, there might be a pale line left for a year or two but nothing permanent. 

"Okay." Gon's voice catches. It's shallow. Killua's gaze flicks to Gon's eyes, shifting and affable. 

And he's aware of how close they are. His hand on Gon's cheek, and Gon's on his knee. They're in the same frame of a movie, the same bits of particles floating in the world.

“Uh, is this okay?” Killua lifts his fingertips but doesn't break contact on Gon's cheek. Touches him lightly, fragilely, although Gon is the sturdiest pillar in his life. 

“Yeah.” Gon’s voice is light. 

“Yeah?” Gon’s cheek is so warm on Killua’s palm. Prickles of energy run through his finger joints, crackling and tingly. And not because of his Nen, or outlying laundry static. 

“I’m not going to break, Killua,” Gon teases, eyes trained on Killua. 

“I know!” In a flash, Killua flicks Gon’s forehead with his other hand, hard. 

“Ow!” Gon tightens up, putting a few inches in between Killua’s hand and his face. “What was that for?” 

Killua huffs, his hands cradled in his lap now. “Being a dumbass.” 

And then a hand is on Killua’s cheek, fingers stretching from Gon’s thumb near the base of his jaw to his pinky, fit upon his cheekbone. Killua sits up, as if someone tugged on his spine. 

“Is this okay?” Gon asks, plain curiosity bleeding through. 

“Yeah.” Killua swallows once. He consciously relaxes, slouching back to Gon's height. 

“See?” Gon’s thumb runs down his neck, maybe one or two centimetres, but to Killua it feels like yards. Killua knows, the neck of the human body is a fragile thing. Full of crucial arteries, pressure points, and neres he knows how to snap fatally in twenty-seven different ways. But Gon’s hands don’t feel like a killer's, even if they’ve got blood as thick and dark—as Killua does—on them.

“See?” Gon repeats practically. “You won’t break either.” 

_I might._

“Yeah,” Killua says instead. Because he knows if he does break, Gon’s hands will be able to put him back together. Common sense nags at the back of his mind, but Killua tells common sense to take a hike. Gon is the same person who beat Shizuku from the Phantom Troupe in arm wrestling, rock-paper-scissored a dodgeball, and took down a Chimera Ant. Granted, the consequences are not to be overlooked, but if he’s ever going to trust anyone, it’s Gon. 

“Can I kiss you now?” Gon springs upon Killua.

“Huh?” Killua chokes on the butterflies that shot up into his throat from his stomach.

“Is that not what you wanted?” Gon asks quizzically. 

“Well—that’s—” Killua’s butterflies have loud wings too, making it hard to think. “Gon!” 

“Yeah?” Gon’s pointer finger slides along Killua’s cheek, coming to rest on his chin. “No?” 

“You can’t just throw that at me out of the blue!” Killua grasps Gon’s hand, whose fingers wrap around his hand without batting an eye. Gon’s so nonchalant about everything, whereas Killua feels his butterflies imploding. 

Gon tilts his head. 

“You can’t just ask someone if they want to kiss,” Killua says, trying to align his thoughts. 

Gon scratches the back of his head. “Sorry, I thought we were going to. And I was going to ask you to make sure.” 

“I got that.” 

Gon squeezes Killua’s hand earnestly. “Sorry if I made you uncomfortable, Killua.” 

“No, no, you didn’t. That was just sudden.” Killua’s self-conscious. He knows the butterflies burst and now the pink dust of their wings is on his cheeks, swimming in his veins and making his heart pound.

“Okay.” Gon hums. “But you don’t want to?” 

Killua resists the urge to bury his head in his hands.

“No,” he says slowly. 

“You want to?” 

Killua fiddles with Gon’s fingers, pale skin against one with sunspots and uneven nails. 

“Kill—u—ah.” Gon sounds out his name. Killua didn’t like how his name sounded as a kid. Killua. Kill. The nickname from his mother, _Kil._ It was always about stealing and taking life, from his name to his training and games as a kid that were assassin exercises in disguise. But Gon makes his name sound joyful and happy. Untainted. Killua wouldn’t mind hearing Gon say it again. 

“Hmm?” 

Gon shifts, he’s getting uncomfortable now.

“Never—

“I want to,” Killua rushes, because if not now, when?

Gon perks up visibly, shoulders leaning towards Killua. 

“Okay,” he says easily. 

Now that Killua’s agreed, he feels vastly underwhelmed. The Zoldycks trained him in everything except romance. He knows how to skin deers, how to rig casino slot machines, how to hotwire cars, but he has no idea where he should put his hands when kissing someone, much less his best friend. Although he’s pretty sure Illumi eventually would’ve thrown him some books and jobs that involved the art of seduction, that's not romance. That’s an artificial form of affection based on emotional manipulation.

Gon bites the top of his bottom lip, not dramatically like those soap operas, but unconsciously like he’s nervous. He’s watching their hands now too.

“You’re okay with it?” Killua asks. Butterflies fill his mouth, and reach down to his fingertips which are intertwined with Gon.

“Yeah.” Gon smiles, that wide smile of his. It’s so bright, and Killua gets nervous all over again. 

“But uh—” Gon looks conflicted. Uncertainty flits across his face, and he shifts their ravel of fingers “I’m not sure how—” 

Killua presses his lips to Gon’s. He has to, or else he’s going to lose his nerve. Even so, the butterflies sing frantically; Killua’s made of butterflies and he knows Gon will be able to feel the tremors in his hand, on his lips, everywhere.

Fingers tighten out of surprise around Killua’s in his lap. 

When Killua pulls back, Gon’s mouth is parted slightly. His eyes are bright, matching the small smile on his face. Killua’s eyes dart to the grass beside them, calm and undisturbed by the kiss that feels so monumental to Killua.

“Like that,” Killua says, still shaking. That was more of a press of lips than a kiss, more of the sentiment and the thought than the action. He hopes it was okay.

One of Gon’s hands leaves Killua’s lap and reaches up. Skims over his collarbone and holds his cheek, like before. 

“Killua,” Gon says, with lips that Killua just kissed. _Lips Killua just kissed._ “Look at me.” 

His hand guides Killua’s chin back up, so their eyes meet. Killua’s spent more time with Gon and his expressive eyes more than anyone else, and has seen the reflection of skies in them from millions of cities and side quests, but he’s still hesitant to meet them. 

They’re warm. Just like Gon, they’re warm. 

Gon smiles. 

“Can I?” His eyes, still warm, flicker down to Killua’s lips. 

Uh—” Killua’s heart must be spilling over. “Sure.” 

This time, it’s more of a kiss. Gon tilts his chin so their mouths fit together better. The hand on Killua’s cheek steadies him, anchoring him here just as much as the butterflies to lift him up, up, up and away. 

Killua feels Gon smiling against his lips. 

“Gon.” Killua can hear the affection in his own voice. 

“Killua.” Gon’s voice matches his. Killua knows, if romance exists, it should be like this. It _is_ this.

“You’re a bad kisser,” Killua says because he’s feeling so much. 

Gon laughs. It’s joy as a sound. “How would you know? I’m the only person you’ve ever kissed.” 

“Yeah.” It feels like an admission, although Gon already knew that. 

“Practice with me, then.” Gon’s flirting attempt is so blatant, and yet Killua’s already sold. 

“Yeah, maybe later.”

“Killuaaa,” Gon whines. 

Killua lets go of Gon’s hand and pokes Gon’s shoulder. He needs a second, to steady his fluttering heart. His blood is trapped in between bolting circulation and just fully stopping. 

“Fine.” Killua leans in, teeth hurting from how sweet it is. 

Because if not now, when?

**Author's Note:**

> okay but tumblr essays on characters are so much easier to read than school work yknow?


End file.
